All in Perspective
by strongandsilentalchemist
Summary: Everybody knows the classic fairy tales, right? WRONG. There are some people out there who got a bad rap because of these tales, and they want to tell the real story. Basically all the "bad guys" telling their side of the story


**Disclaimer: I don't own Cinderella. And I don't really know who does...**

Everybody knows the magical tale of the princess who defied her ugly stepmother and stepsisters to run off to a ball and marry her prince. Along the way, she had the help of some rodents and a small pumpkin. But we want to know why everyone believes that story. Doesn't it seem a little odd to you? I mean, marriages for princes are usually ones that help the kingdom. Last time I checked, fairy godmothers didn't exist. And when was the last time a girl really wanted to use a pumpkin pulled by rats as transportation to the biggest event of her life? We are Cinderella's so-called "ugly" stepsisters, and we want to tell our story.

The way our stepsister tells it, her dearest darlingest mother died, and her father fell in love with a terrible woman who didn't love him back. She couldn't be more wrong. We've never seen two people more in love than them. It was good for Cinderella's father that her mother died. Her mother was out shopping, spending ridiculous amounts of money on clothes for her and Cinderella. Her poor father had to work two jobs to keep up with her spending. When she died, Cinderella's father sighed in relief and fell in love with our mother.

They were perfect together. Everyone agreed. Cinderella hated our mother, though. She didn't spend massive amounts of money on clothes for Cinderella. When she published her "story" Cinderella said that she was always dressed in rags. That was an exaggeration. She was just cranky that sometimes she didn't have brand new clothes to wear. Her dad and my mother bought a house, moved in together, and began to make wedding plans. And then the worst happened.

Cinderella's dad was an author and artist, often lost in his own world while he was thinking about his next chapter or drawing. When he was, he didn't tend to pay much attention to the real world. So when he stepped out right in front of a car, nobody was really surprised. But we were all horrified when the car didn't stop. It plowed right over him, and killed him on impact. We were all heartbroken, including Cinderella.

The bigger problem came when the social workers showed up.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but since you and her father were not married, legally we have to take the girl. She has to go into the foster care system, since she has become an orphan."

Our mother tried. She really did. "Can't she stay here? Is there any way? I would be willing to adopt her!"

"No Ma'am. Orphaned children are placed in the foster care system, where they are matched with couples that are unable to have children. You do not qualify." The social worker looked apologetic, but firm.

Our mother thought for a moment. "I know! She's sixteen. She can choose her own job. She can work as a maid for us. We'll feed, house, and clothe her, as well as paying her well for her work. She'll only have to do it for two years, until she turns 18!"

"I suppose that could work," said the social worker hesitantly. She has a reason to stay with this family because of her job, so she would be an exception to the rule. Fine. She can stay."

"Yes!" my mother shouted, pumping her fist in the air. We were both happy for our mother. Cinderella was the only one that didn't look pleased.

XxXxX

And so Cinderella became our maid. We're not going to lie. She was terrible. Absolutely horrific. She never completed any task properly. And she complained whenever we asked her to do something. She seemed to forget that she was getting paid for what she was doing. In her story, which she called her biography, she said that we made her do all the household chores and never did any ourselves. Well, no duh. We told her to do what she was paid to do, and no more. And even when she left tasks unfinished or poorly completed, we still paid her handsomely. But we managed to live until the week before senior prom. Then, it all went spiraling downhill.

"I'm not going!" said Cinderella with her arms crossed.

"But why?" I asked.

"There's no boys that will take me! And no one goes to senior prom without a date!"

"With that attitude, it's not surprising that no boys will take her," I whispered to my sister, Rosemary.

"I heard that!" said Cinderella, pouting.

"I really don't care. We're going dress shopping today and we wanted to know if you would come."

"I'm NOT going!"

"Okay, I think that's all the answer we need. While we're gone, could you sweep the bathroom floor? It's not too hard of a job. It should only take you fifteen minutes or so."

"Why should I?" she asked, her arms crossed (again). "You never do any chores, so why should I?"

"Because we pay you to do them?"

"That's not a good enough reason! Give me three good reasons and then I'll do it."

This girl reminded me of a 6 year old. The only thing that made her seem sixteen was her face. "Because you're paid, you're paid, and you're paid. This is what we hired you to do. Or would you rather go live with some couple out in the country or something?"

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes and flounced out of the room.

So we gave her a chance to come. Several, actually. And we didn't lock her up in a cellar to make her do chores. we don't know where she got that idea.

That girl was so unpredictable, it was almost predictable. By that, we mean that when she decided to attend prom, we weren't surprised.

Two nights before, she was on the phone with her friend. "I can't figure out what to wear! My stepmom won't take me shopping! *pause * I _know, _can you believe that? * another pause * Yeah, I know. I hope he's gonna be there. I need to find someone that can get me out of this place. * pause* So you'll bring by the dress tomorrow? *pause * Awesome! Thanks a lot!"

When her friend came by the next day, Cinderella was estatic. "Thank you _soooo _much! I would have totally died without you! You always save me when my family decides not to take my side. You're like my fairy godmother or something!"

And then the two retired upstairs, presumably to talk about the upcoming dance, clothing, makeup, and other such things.

So you see, it was just a teensy exaggeration when Cinderella said that her fairy godmother just showed up and used her magic wand to procure a beautiful dress for Cinderella. She just ran out of time and had to borrow someone else's. And the glass shoes, you ask? There is no such thing. It is physically impossible. Her shoes were "fake glass" In other words, plastic. They looked kind of cool until you found out that they were really just dollar store plastic shoes that were made to look like glass. It was the only thing she could find to match her dress. Of course, she didn't try very hard, but that was her choice.

Finally, when the long-awaited day arrived, we were all excited, including Cinderella. The emotion in the house began to build until it was finally time to leave. We had rented a limo with a bunch of our friends. Since there were enough people to fill the seats inside, neither of us had to pay very much. It was thrilling to ride in a limo. We were both almost skipping on the way down the walk to the waiting limo. That is – until we saw that Cinderella was following us.

"You can't come," I said. "We all paid for the limo, and there will be no more seats left.

"But I can pay you back!" she said cheerfully.

"No, you don't understand," said Rosemary. "Us and our friends rented the limo a long time ago. We split the cost and found enough people to take all the room. There are no seats left."

Her face fell. She dramatically burst into tears and ran back inside. We left right away. She couldn't come with us, and we didn't want to witness the fireworks. According to our mother, they went something like this:

"Can you please take me to Prom? Gladys and Rosemary are being so mean! There was plenty of room in the limo and they wouldn't take me! I even promised to pay them back! They just don't like me!"

Our mother sighed. "I'm sorry, but I'm not able to take you. I'm already late to bingo night with my friends? Can't you have the girl that loaned you the dress take you?"

Cinderella gasped. "Great idea!" She ran for the phone. "Hey Carolyn, my sisters left me hanging _again _and they won't give me a ride to prom like they said they would (we said nothing of the sort). Could you help me out and give me a ride? I don't want to miss this! * pause * What? * pause * Okay then, it'll have to do. Thanks so much. Again, you're just like a fairy godmother to me."

When her friend finally showed up with the car, Cinderella was horrified. "That thing is the worst rental car I have ever seen. I know your car broke down and that you had to rent one for cheap, but _still_! That thing looks like a pumpkin!" The car was a convertible VW bug. It was bright orange with a black top. Cinderella wasn't actually that far off. It did look like a pumpkin.

After much protest, Cinderella decided that she had no other choice. With a deep breath, like she was about to conquer some insurmountable obstacle, she yelled, "I will do this! I will take this ugly pumpkin-like car to prom!"

"Thanks a lot Cinderella," said her friend with a sigh. "Glad to know you like the car."

XxXxX

Because we had so many people to pick up, Cinderella's pumpkin and our limo arrived at the same time. We walked in, surrounded by our friends. There was no way we wanted to see Cinderella right now. Prom was amazing. The music was great, and the food was even better. The facilities were amazing. We were on the beautiful nearby college campus, and we were allowed to go outside whenever we wished. After some dancing, our friends headed outside. We followed them, enjoying the cool breeze that floated across campus. But the music from inside lured us back in.

We couldn't have been more surprised to see Cinderella and _that boy _dancing so close together. I don't even think they knew each other before this. Whatever. We decided to let her have her fun. We didn't really care who she danced with.

Later, we saw Cinderella sitting down, with only one shoe on.

"What are doing?" I asked.

"Not that any of you would care, but my shoe broke. My _brand-new _boyfriend has some glue in his car, so he's going to fix it."

As she was speaking, he was plowing through the crowd with a shoe in his hands. He finally kneeled down by Cinderella. He took the shoe and gently put it on her foot. "It fits!" he exclaimed loudly. "I was afraid that more pieces had come off and that when I glued it back together it wasn't going to fit but it does!" He kissed her. "Let's keep dancing. I'll twirl you off your feet so your shoe won't break again.

We turned away from the romantic exchange. "Let's go," I said to my sister. "I don't want to see this.

Towards the end of the night, we began to see Cinderella and her new boyfriend talking a lot. Whenever I saw them, they were always leaned toward each other, whispering. And then she disappeared. We didn't give it much thought. There were so many people there that it was pretty easy to lose track of someone. Even when we left in our limo without seeing her, we didn't worry. She probably got a ride home with her "fairy godmother" or her new boyfriend.

We realized there was a problem when we found the front door unlocked. Our mother never was careless enough to leave the door unlocked, and she left after Cinderella. We ran up to her room. All her clothes were gone, and her big bag that she kept on the floor was gone too.

"She's gone," I said, looking at my sister in surprise.

"All that talking – they must have been planning! She ran off with her new boyfriend!"

"And now that I think about it, do you remember her checking the time so much at the dance? She had to leave before midnight to beat Mom home. That's why she looked so nervous at the end!"

My sister thought for a second. "You're right." In a more serious tone, she asked, "Is she going to ever come back?"

"I don't know. You can never tell with her."

XxXxX

She never did come back. We think that she must have been stockpiling her money for an occasion like that. Now we're just guessing, but we think she must have taken that money and enrolled in college. Then she got a job. Her major, we decided? She majored in writing. It was the only thing she was ever good at. Then she took her skills, and took revenge. Her success with her story, called "Cinderella" (she was always so humble) gave her enough money to live comfortably for the rest of her life. She called it a biography, but it was really just one big exaggeration. We don't know where you are, Cinderella, but this is our revenge. We hope you like our story.

**AN This is an idea I've had for quite a while. I'm going to try and do more rewrites of classic fairy tales. If you have a specific one in mind, please tell me. I might use it. I think next up I'm going to do Snow White. That one should be interesting. Please review! It really keeps me going! :)**


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